


Pete Wentz's Grand Dive into Entrepreneurship

by homotrons



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gerard's a diva, Gerard's not nearly as straight as he thinks, HELLA PORN, I didn't include fandoms for minor characters okay, I didn't proofread this hard enough, I messed up the ages okay, I think that last tag was implied, IT WAS FOR THE PLOT, M/M, So is Ryan, for science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homotrons/pseuds/homotrons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Wentz' family has a lot of money but he wants some of his own. How will he go about such a task? He starts making underground porn that's illegal for many reasons but he doesn't care and no one really has to know, he just needs to be super top secret about it. Mikey Way has one friend who just happens to have a crush on his brother so Mikey's kind of lonely. Mikey and Pete meet and that's as far as I can say without spoiling the plot to my own poorly written story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pete Wentz's Grand Dive into Entrepreneurship

**Author's Note:**

> It's bad. I got the idea from this prompt blog on tumblr but it wasn't exactly porn it was I think underground movies or something but I was looking for stuff I can use for gay stuff so wowie kazowie porn. I have three fics going right now and one I sort of abandoned so I can't guarantee I'll actually keep up the motivation to work on this but we can hope. Or I can. I also can't guarantee anyone will really like this story but I can hope for the beet. 
> 
> This fic's pretty shitty and generally unrealistic since I'm uninformed and the NSA will probably get me for informing myself but yeah here it is.

Never would anyone hesitate to say Pete Wentz was weird or a little off, but they didn't know the half of it. Pete Wentz was batshit, two hours of sleep a night, video game addicted, bass playing, computing hacking crazy. That was still relatively normal compared to the half of it; Pete was a teenager, stuff like that was really rather common. He just seemed like another internet loser with a minimal amount of friends and excessive amount of unscheduled time. He actually had a lot of friends, soccer players mostly, but also a few losers that could play instruments or at least fake it to the point that it's amusing however that could be interpreted. 

One day, Pete sat down at one of the many plastic top tables that scattered the very populated public school cafeteria and waited for one of the losers. He drummed his calloused (and ugly, he noted as well) fingers on the cheap yellow material and mindlessly picked at a french fry. He craned his head back and saw the previously mentioned loser on his way over. The long haired teenager with a tray full of french fries, corn chowder and Gatorade proceeded diagonally from his black haired compadre who others and himself considered to be less of a loser on the social ladder. They were both okay with that. 

"How's being a vegan going?" Pete raised his eyebrow and poked at the corn chowder with a french fry before the owner of the meal promptly slapped his hand away and gave him the scariest glare he could manage, not that his glare didn't always work on Pete anyway. "Okay fine, but that seriously looks like semen delight," he commented before lazily half-eating one of his thirty-four french fries (he counted). 

"Don't you have a girlfriend or something?" the other one rolled his eyes and began scooping his lunch. Pete narrowed his eyes.

"Now, what would lead you to assume that, Mr. Hurley?" he wiggled his eyebrows for dramatic effect to which the person in question just scoffed. Pete giggled. "Soccer doesn't make me a chick magnet. I'm short!"

"And you wear eyeliner."

"Fuck you, Andy."

They laughed in unison before a flying french fry slapped Pete right in the back of his head. Pete inhaled and turned around, thinking he looked more intimidating then he did. He exhaled and said, "Oh, it's you."

"Uh huh!" The chirpy brown haired boy sat down across from the two of them. He, Brendon Urie, was bearable, Pete had concluded a few weeks ago when Brendon had recited a whole scene from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ in the locker room and promptly flipped off the guys who called him a fag before turning the act of giving them the bird into interpretive dance. Pete liked him. "You two looked lonely and I sought making my presence known would be a viable solution to your problem that probably only exists in my head." Andy rotated his eyes in a sarcastic manner once more, but truthfully, Brendon didn't bother him either.

"Tell Andy his soup looks like cum," Pete demanded with saggy eyelids and a salted fried potato stick rolling between his fingers. 

"Your soup looks like cum," he stated and Andy simply nodded before mumbling something along the lines of, "fucking carnivores." The carnivores mutually agreed that was fair. 

 

\------

 

Renting out a storage unit never seemed to be a bad idea. Pete could use it for anything he wanted and his parents had no way of knowing it exists, or at least belongs in his name. The Wentz family weren't lacking in money by any means (though public school might suggest otherwise, it was his idea anyway), no, they could buy numerous yachts and it would barely dent their crazy income of three to six million a year. Pete never understood money all that well, mostly because his family did have it in having disposable amounts, but he knew that was way too much for a single family. His whole plan was that he could use the storage unit to make money that would also go to paying rent for the storage unit. It was a cycle. 

His family's income only comes into play because he had no money of his own at the beginning when he rented the unit. He wasn't stupid but they were. He knew that he could easily slip $700 a month from one of his father's accounts and he wouldn't notice a damn thing and his accountant likely wouldn't either. His whole family was painfully oblivious to each other. Mrs. Wentz was on Mr. Wentz's financial leash and their son was aware of it too. He knew how people worked, they were just another upperclass family who think in economical currency and fake family values. 

Pete didn't always want to steal his father's money, he wanted to feel like he was being an entrepreneur too. He knew that what he was doing was more than just potentially illegal even if he disagreed with the reasoning behind it, but the law wasn't going to stop him. His product was going on the internet, a place where nothing was really within the law. He got a thrill out of it, not so much when he thought of how he was going to have to approach Andy with the opportunity to join in on his little journey into illegality and money. 

That didn't matter right at that moment though, what mattered was figuring out how the fuck that tripod and that camera can fit together. Pete avoided doing things for himself for this nearly exact reason. 

\------

 

Mikey hung the heels of his feet on top of his headboard and leaned his head back to see his older brother standing in the doorway looking pissed as ever. 

"Guess who wants to join drama class?" he ran a hand through his black hair and furrowed his brow more intensely. Mikey sighed. 

"Who wants to join the drama club?" 

Gerard blinked up and pursed his lips. "Jon Walker." The younger held in laughing (which he was a pro at). 

"And?" he cocked his eyebrow before swinging his feet from their original place down to the pillow. Gerard walked over to his bed and fell backward dramatically before kicking his shoes off. Everyone knew Gerard was a diva, but only two people had to live with it unwillingly and only one had to share a room with it (also unwillingly). He rolled onto his stomach and grabbed one of the comics he hid in his pillow case like a magician would with ties in his coat sleeve. He opened it up and exclaimed, "I don't know! He's just– he's a football player! How will a football player be able to be in the drama club? They're all pricks and big and burly and I want nothing to do with them! He's probably only doing it to make a big, fat joke out of us!"

"And what if he's not?" Mikey inquired, still bored with the topic. His brother shifted his weight and adopted an expression of pure confusion and possibly disgust, "He is, for a fact, a football player, Mikey, you literally cannot disagree with me." 

"I know that, I meant your stereotype of a football player. Maybe he could act out some sixteenth century tragedy like angel." Gerard coughed and rolled his eyes, "You just don't get it."

"Of course I don't. Can you go ask mom what's for dinner?" 

"It's spaghetti."

"Neat."

 

\------

 

Gerard chatted on the phone with Greta for two hours about something Mikey didn't care about and that cut down his sleep time by three hours, causing him to be in a really shitty mood the next morning. Ryan picked them both up in his mother's PT Cruiser that morning and Mikey decided to infect both of them with his really shitty mood by saying things like "check your mirrors" and "wow, wouldn't it have sucked if you didn't slow down before that school zone and hit a bunch of kids?" from the backseat. Mikey felt sort of bad, Ryan wasn't that bad, but he was set to piss off every drama club kid he could as revenge for the two that ruined his night. He didn't sleep enough anyway, but Gerard's girl talks till two a.m. made those poor habits feel much, much worse. 

Ryan parked the car and gave Mikey a dirty look from the front mirror as he stepped out of the car that the younger boy couldn't take too seriously because of the scarf tied around his greasy brown hair. He adjusted his glasses and pulled out his iPod as the white SUV speeded off (sort of, it only move thirty feet forward). First period was English, a class he was enthusiastically apathetic about. It was also a class that was all the way across campus. 

Mikey trudged through the muddy snow like it was Valley Forge and encountered nearly nobody while he did so. The school had about 500 students and they all traveled in packs, save a few kids like Mikey Way. Gerard was a nearly three hundred pound loser two years prior but then he thinned down to half that weight and befriended with the whole drama club. The drama club wasn't cool, but it was something at least. They were both awkward losers, but Mikey was more reserved and didn't constantly subject himself to embarrassment like the eldest brother did, yet he probably didn't even know that's what was happening every time he opened his mouth to defend how aesthetically pleasing Audrey Hepburn and zombies were. 

Mikey had one friend. "Hey!" his one friend yelled directing it at him and began running to catch up. His one friend was Frank Iero, a scrawny kid with a sort of mohawk (Frank had explained it to him but he forgot) that liked punk rock and had so much energy that he could and would put an eight year old with ADHD and a pack of coke to shame. He also played guitar and tried out for every band that was open even if that didn't mean playing guitar. He just liked music and being loud. Mikey respected that. 

"Hey," Mikey responded and adjusted his backpack onto his aching left shoulder once again. 

"There are lockers, you know. I believe you have one too," Frank chuckled. Frank was a year younger than Mikey and had a sort of crush on Gerard. Mikey shoved Frank and his happy little ass which only caused his noise level to increase and his grin to grow wider. 

"Don't you have biology or something?" the older one narrowed his eyes under his glasses. Frank confirmed it. "And isn't that in the 200s building?"

"Uh huh." Their school was split up into separate buildings for separate subjects and they were all strategically placed at least 70 feet away from one another. No one was sure if it was for visual appeal, needing to take up lot space, or student exercise (they had a gym class though that latter was deemed rather likely, it was the second best compared to the first option). Mikey shrugged because he knew Frank didn't care if he was late or even showed up, that's just how Frank was. He did whatever he wanted when he wanted to and that came with varied reactions. Mikey and Frank didn't really care what each other did, they weren't hooked together like Gerard and the whole goddamn drama club. 

Frank giddily took Mikey's backpack right off his shoulders and begin skipping with the biggest smile he could manage. 

"You look like a fucking schoolgirl, Iero!" the backpack-less teenager shouted. Frank stopped for a second to turn around and yell back, "My hair's not long enough for pigtails! Your brother on the other hand..." Mikey laughed and nodded before chucking a shoe at his jackass of a best friend. "Now that's counterproductive, Way!" The now backpack and shoeless teenager ran to catch up with his friend and snatch his backpack back. Then he shoved him to the ground and Frank finally understood that they were both late and sort of covered in mud and he still had Mikey's gross black sneaker in his hand. 

Frank handed him his shoe and began running to his class that was approximately 139 feet away. Mikey took off his muddy sock and threw it off to the side before sticking his bare, sweaty foot into his dirty shoe. He hung his bag over his shoulder once more and finished the walk to his designated building. The large glass doors took effort to pull open, but they were still within fire code so that was good. He dropped his bag on top of a bench before pulling out his books and stepping in with his bag lazily on his arm. 

He slouched into his seat and glanced up at the clock. He was three minutes late and received a nice scowl from the teacher. He thought their seating arrangement was like something you'd see on a plane; he, a skinny 5'10 kid with glasses, sat between a 5'4 all-American kid who had two hundred pounds on Mikey and a 4'10 Asian girl who played her gameboy throughout class and still kept up a straight A record. Representations of high schools weren't stereotypical, the stereotypes were just all true. Stereotypes are always based off of fact. 

The teacher began announcing what their new assignment was and Mikey almost thought it was funny that they were still doing book reports in the same manner as he was required to do in second through fourth grade. The girl to his right glanced up from her handheld outdated (everyone could agree that Gameboys would always be cool) Nintendo device and managed a piercing look of determination, annoyance, and fury. The kid to Mikey's left picked up his water bottle and spilled a little on himself while he was drinking it. 

"Excuse me! Ms. Hanson! I have study hall right now, so can I get my test and do it now?" Pete shot through the door. Mikey didn't know it was Pete though since he didn't know who Pete was. The teacher crinkled her face to look even more irritated than usual and walked over to her desk then bent down to grab the test from a drawer. The slob next to Mikey was obviously examining her thighs and Mikey didn't really blame him but he was already naturally fucking gross, plus Ms. Hanson was in her late fifties and her neck sagged. 

She handed the test over to Pete and said, "Try not to hang out with your cousins when they're sick, okay?" He nodded and darted out the door. Mikey thought he looked funny, he was short and had red skinny jeans and a full on emo fringe. One could argue Mikey looked emo and Gerard unarguably looked emo, but Pete took the cake. Mikey was pleased with that conclusion and looked over only to realize that the girl next to him had been burning holes into the side of his head for a good thirty seconds and that made Mikey uncomfortable. 

Ms. Hanson walked up to the front of the room to begin explaining the importance of apostrophes and how to use them. Mikey dragged his backpack onto his lap and barely took note of the few tiny blonde hairs that fell from his friend's head. He unzipped the space behind the main compartment and pulled out a drawing his brother drew for him a few weeks ago. Gerard asked him to leave notes where he could use improvement and Mikey hadn't left any yet because he couldn't find any flaws. His older brother may have been a dramatic bitch most of the time but he was an amazing artist. Mikey grabbed a blue pen from his pocket and wrote "needs more blood" next to one of the bodies littered in the street. He slipped it back into his bag and looked up at the clock to see that there were thirty minutes left. 

When they had three minutes left, he gazed at the door and saw his hyperactive and only friend jumping and making faces through the window in the door. Frank poked his tongue at his cheek and made pumping motions with his right fist and Mikey began quietly giggling. Unfortunately, he was quiet or subtle enough and the teacher walked over and shut the blinds. The perpetrator ran and Ms. Hanson gave Mikey a detention slip. 

Eventually the bell rang and he made a mental note to pack lunch tomorrow since he has to spend that lunch period in detention. He swung his backpack over his left shoulder and rushed through the crowd of exiting students before leaving the bag right outside the door and heading to the cafeteria which was rather close to the building he was in. He started walking out of the glass doors he entered earlier and up the concrete slope leading to the lunchroom. The strings on his hoodie got pulled from behind him and he turned around to see Frank running to jump on his back which he succeeded at. 

"What the fuck, why didn't you just go get a head start and get lunch?" Mikey tried to throw the shorter and not necessarily lighter boy off of his aching back. Frank finally hopped off and began matching strides with his friend. 

"Just wanted to mess with you. Also, it's meatloaf so I wasn't too eager to get it right away. . . or at all," he flexed his neck muscles and widened his lips into a goofy frown. Mikey laughed and elbowed him. They arrived at the cafeteria soon after and Frank immediately slid into one of the tables while Mikey stood in line. Frank pulled out his left over meatless lasagna and inhaled the beautiful vegetarian aromas. 

Mikey came back and sat next to the freshman before sniffing his lunch and asking, "How do you even get vegetarian lasagna?" 

"My mom's fabulous, that's how," he answered. Their days mostly revolved around lunch. Frank's mom and teachers recommended he play soccer or lacrosse because of his height and he tried lacrosse before quickly resigning after whacking the coach's son upside the head with a stick. He could've had serious brain damage and not only did it scar Frank from trying anymore sports, it taught him to avoid adults with muscle mass and a lot of power on their hands. For as much of a little punk (pun slightly intended) as Frank was, he was absolutely terrified of people physically bigger than him that he couldn't outwit or annoy or do something to amuse himself with until they went away. 

Mikey poked his soggy yet still somehow dry meatloaf with a plastic fork before being slide into by someone too white and skinny to be dangerous. He groaned, "What do you want Gerard?" He was going to add a joke about the drama club but he couldn't see if it were more to entertain Frank or himself so he didn't.

"Just wanted to tease my little brother and his friends," the eldest Way said gleefully. They knew he was too much of a loser to do that but it was okay. 

"Friend," Frank corrected him. They both laughed and Mikey half smiled at the comment. Gerard stared at the singular friend while he slurped his milk. Gerard was 100% straight but he was also an artist so it was okay to look at people for extended periods of time. Only he thought that was a reasonable argument but that was another thing he could live with. Frank noticed at the end but made sure Gerard didn't know that for both of their sakes. It didn't really bother him though, he liked being stared by hot dorky older guys who aren't legal so it wouldn't totally be statutory rape if they fucked. Frank wasn't sure how two minors having sex worked within the legal system but it didn't seem to be a big deal. 

Gerard left a few minutes after to go catch up with Ryan and try to look at the girl he convinced himself he had a crush on. Her name was Lindsey and she was a bit younger than him and had a nice nose with a slight bump that was still attractive and added character. He liked to draw figures that kind of looked like her since she was very aesthetically pleasing even if he wasn't really sexually attracted to her much to his dismay. He was straight for a fact though. 

 

\------

 

The seven members of the drama club sat in the front row auditorium chairs: Ryan Ross, Greta Salpeter, Carry Ann Heuston-Louise, Veronica Gary, Patrick Stump (he only played piano), Fitz Bejarano, and Gerard Way. They were all in anticipation over how Jon Walker would do, especially Gerard and Ryan, Ryan actually more than Gerard. All their eyes shot over to the door when the newest possible member poked his head through. Greta friendlily shouted, "Come in!" Ryan sneered at her, she slapped his arm. 

Jon stepped up to the stage and Ryan tightly gripped his clipboard while Greta tried to calm him down by using her left hand to rub his extremely tight shoulder. He very slightly relaxed and broke the paper with the pen while scribbling down "Jon Walker". 

"Uh, so, is there anything specific you want me to uh, preform?" He stuttered from the stage. Ryan called from his seat, "You were supposed to have memorized something, numerous things preferably since you are joining the _drama club_." 

"Oh, no, no! I do have many things memorized, I just wanted to know if there's anything in particular," Jon inhaled sharply. 

"Just go!" Gerard shouted barely nicer than his friend had. Greta rolled her eyes and Veronica threw her long brown hair over her shoulder and prepared to watch. 

"Okay." Then he proceeded to recite the most beautiful thing Ryan Ross had ever heard in his whole damn life. Ryan told him he was in with amazed eyes and a weak tone. 

 

\-----

 

Andy hung upside down off of Pete's bed while Pete had his back bent over a yoga ball. They had a Green Day CD playing since it was one of the few bands Pete's mom didn't know enough about to ban him from listening to. 

"Aren't you like fifteen? How the fuck are you growing facial hair?" Pete asked. Andy wasn't the most friendly looking person but he wasn't super intimidating. He had dorky hair and glasses. 

"It's more of a sort of beard, I don't know! It distracts from my jaw," he mumbled. The facial hairless one of the two chuckled and groped around his pocket. He felt the key to his super secret storage unit and froze. He remembered why he asked Andy to come over and became overwhelmingly anxious. He knew it wouldn't go smoothly so he tried to word his proposition the best he could. 

"Hey, Andy, you watch porn right?" Pete slipped. He mentally applauded himself for being smooth as fuck and prepared to go die in a hole. 

"Yeah," his friend answered. "I mean, I don't drink or do drugs or any of that but yeah, porn's okay." Pete exhaled in relief and even more anxiety. 

"Have you even wondered how they film those?" he continued. Andy contemplated for a moment before responding, "Yeah, kind of. It sounds unhorny as fuck though I mean come on– I'm pretty sure telling a girl to deep throat some guy and for both of them to make as many noises as possible isn't exactly jack off material."

"Have you ever wanted to be the person telling the girl to do all that stuff?" Pete slurred his words. Andy gulped and said, "Uh, I've never considered that? Is this theoretical or no?"

"Not really." 

"Okay Pete spit it the hell out."

"Do you want to make underground porn with me? I mean like neither of us will be fucking on camera, we'll just be recording the fucking."

"Okay," Andy agreed swiftly. Pete fell off the exercise ball in awe

"Wait– what?"


End file.
